


Bride Price

by Basingstoke



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-06-01
Updated: 2002-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:32:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basingstoke/pseuds/Basingstoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This has been sitting in my wips folder for <i>ages. </i>Te finally twisted my arm and made me post.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Bride Price

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my wips folder for _ages. _Te finally twisted my arm and made me post.

MacLeod was rinsing off the dinner dishes in the sink, casting the occasional wary eye on Methos and Amanda. Methos wondered, was he more afraid of them not getting along or getting along too well?

He set his wine glass on the coffee table and leaned toward Amanda. She turned to him, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"I'll give you three cows for him," he said, and MacLeod dropped a plate.

Amanda drummed her nails against her glass with a calculating smile. "Five, and pasturage."

"Four. And I'll give you the east bank of the creek and two stone's throw beyond it, but only because he's strong like an ox."

MacLeod tossed a fork into the sink with gusto. "Not funny, Methos."

Methos raised his eyebrows innocently. "What? That's a very good bride price in this day and age."

"I'm not a bride!" MacLeod shouted.

Amanda sighed. "Just because it's an arranged marriage doesn't mean you can't be happy," she said patiently. "I already know you like him. That's more than most brides get."

"I...am not...a bride," MacLeod growled.

Amanda flapped a hand at him. "Shush. Methos, who throws the stone?"

"You do. I'll take your word or I'll take your head." Methos smiled.

"Touchy touchy. I'm an _honest_ thief."

MacLeod stalked over to the table, closing his hands over Amanda's shoulders. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Methos propped his chin on his hand. "The prospective suitor makes an offer to the senior member of the clan. And since Connor is nowhere to be found, I think Amanda is about as senior as it gets..."

"I'm senior to Connor," Amanda protested. "By almost five hundred years!"

"I won't be sold for cattle! And Amanda doesn't own me, anyway!"

"Pish posh," Amanda said.

"I had better make a deed so it's all nice and legal," Methos said.

MacLeod watched, his hands clenching and unclenching, as Methos sat at MacLeod's desk and drew up a receipt transferring ownership of four cows and pasturage to Amanda. "What name are you using currently?"

"Amanda Metcalfe." She leaned on the back of the chair, watching him write. He threw in a few flourishes; it was good to use the old calligraphy skills again.

"Right. Now, this is drawn on my Irish estate, so you'll have to do a little traveling to claim it." Methos handed Amanda the papers. "There's a ring hidden under the fifth post to the right of the gate; if you take it and say you're a friend of Donald Coughlin, then you can stay in the great house. Just put it back when you're done so I can find it again."

Amanda twined one arm around Methos, patting his cheek with one hand as she brushed her lips against his other cheek. "Methos?"

"Yes?"

"You could just ask me to leave."

"Well, where's the fun in that?" He smiled. She smiled back.

MacLeod cleared his throat. "What are you two getting up to?"

Amanda straightened up. "Why--nothing." She crossed to MacLeod and kissed his cheek. "I just have to catch a plane to Ireland."

"And leave me with him?" MacLeod gestured at Methos. Methos widened his eyes.

"Four cows isn't a bad price at all, Duncan, given that you're a little long in the tooth." Amanda patted his cheek and he huffed. "So we know his intentions are honorable," she concluded with a bright smile.

"He can't even _spell_ honorable," MacLeod said.

Methos frowned. "H-O-N-O-U-R-A-B-L-E."

"Shut up!" MacLeod shouted. Amanda ducked under his arm and made for the door, waving her hankie.

Methos wiggled his fingers. "Toodle-oo."

The door slammed. MacLeod turned a baleful eye on Methos. "You."

"Me?"

MacLeod grabbed Methos by the shirtfront and slammed him up against the wall. "What are you playing at?"

"Silly buggers," Methos said, and wrapped one leg around MacLeod's. "Do that again?"

MacLeod body-slammed Methos back into the brick wall. Methos sighed and wrapped his arms around MacLeod as well. "Well worth four cows," he groaned into MacLeod's ear.

"You're a sick man," MacLeod muttered.

Methos kissed MacLeod's chin. "Yes."

the end.


End file.
